


The Storms of Life

by Charlie9646



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, Doing your best to push people away, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, Mentions of Abortion, PTSD, Severus Snape Lives, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24254338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646
Summary: Prompt Severus Snape, (you deserve shelter from the storm, even if the storm is you.)Severus Snape has given up after the war, and Hermione Granger has more secrets than she would care to admit.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41
Collections: HP UnHappily Ever After Fest 2020





	The Storms of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to hrmionegrvnger for Betaing this

“If I can survive the war that I battle with myself, I can survive anything.” Gemma Troy

Depression and trauma was a storm, a tornado, one that seemed to tear apart the walls, ripping out the floor, and  sending shards of your previous life and affecting those around you . It sucked the life out of everything, taking everything that mattered and was a wound that no one could see. A wound that bled and oozed, which caused him to put walls around himself. He locked his heart away from anyone who dared to get too close.

Severus Snape sat in the home he was raised in with all it’s pain and sorrow and memories he desperately wanted to forget, but he could not. He stared out the dirty window, yellowed with age, darkened with muck distributed from the local smoggy factories. This street, this town, this bloody area was forgotten just as Severus was. 

As he preferred it. 

Severus took a sip of his tea from a chipped sky blue mug likely older than he was. Suddenly, he was startled by a loud knock on his door. Sighing loudly, he set the cup aside on his end table. Narcissa would not knock loudly, she would not dare to damage her nails. Lucius would not risk a sweat with exerting so much energy. And Draco never had shown that much enthusiasm for a task with little reward. Even Potter had stopped visiting him months ago upon realizing Severus refused to sate his curiosity. He simply stared at the son of his Hogwarts bully and his closest childhood friend. 

And he enjoyed every bloody second of it. At first, Potter was polite, then attempted a commanding tone even raising his voice, and finally, he lost all control and screamed at his former professor. In the end, Severus could not help but laugh. It brought joy to his life like nothing else seemed to do. Yet, he found himself disappointed when Potter stopped visiting it was the only entertainment man had now that the war was over. The visits were the highlight of his week. 

The banging of the fist hitting the front door filled the small living room and echoed off the walls. Growling, Severus stood. The chair squeaked as he did, and he fleetingly considered the need to buy a new one. It did not matter now. What did matter was the witch, who would not stop banging on his fucking door.

Unfortunately, the only person who hadn't forgotten him was the least likely person he wished to see, the insufferable know-it-all, former-student, and woman-who-decorated-his-stoop, none other than Hermione Granger.

“What do you want? Ms. Granger, do you believe that I exist only for your amusement? ” Severus snarled, “why must you decorate my stoop with yourself? Someone might see and think we are friends or worse.”

“I brought some food. Molly made a roast for Sunday dinner, and isn’t that one of your favorites?” She asked ignoring his questions. 

“I thought we had an agreement, Severus. I bring you food, news, and you let me read some of your books.”

“Yes we did,” he sighed. He took the canvas bag from her full with the food. “Doesn’t mean I enjoy having you around.” He suspected their “deal” ,as she claimed it to be, was less about getting access to his books and more about making sure he was okay. Nevertheless, he would enjoy Molly Weasley’s Sunday dinner even if it was a day late. Molly drove him utterly bonkers at best, but her cooking was rather to die for. 

Granger immediately shot to his massive book shelves that spanned the walls of his living room. Meanwhile,Severus went to the kitchen, and unpacked the containers that held the food. If he was honest with himself, which Severus tried to be, as such practice rarely carried over to others, he never ate enough. He had little desire to cook and less desire to eat. Severus Snape mostly lived off tea, biscuits bought at the corner store, and apples from the old tree that grew in his back garden. 

Severus retrieved a fork, and the warming charms Granger or Molly must have placed had kept the food warm. Hermione walked over to him, carrying his tea cup with him, and sat it down in front of him. “I thought you would like this., And Severus, you should eat more. Your face looks even thinner than when I was your student.”

“And you have gotten more insufferable!” He nastily spat, Granger ignored him. 

Severus knew why she was quicker to anger, and less patient He couldn’t begin to understand. Hermione Granger had a miscarriage, and her relationship suffered irrevocably. 

Severus knew he could not continue to push away the people around him. As much as he did not enjoy having her around, Severus was not a fool. He needed  _ her.  _ Severus needed her because for whatever reason she cared. Granger cared if he lived or died, and honestly it was a nice feeling even if Severus would never voice such things. 

Hermione was a beautiful young woman. Severus was ashamed to admit he did fancy her. She had long since left him to his meal, venturing to do what she normally did entertain herself with his living room. As she reached for a book, he couldn’t help but to stare at her arse that was slightly out of her reach t Her jeans hugged her in all the right places. 

_ ‘Merlin,’ _ he thought to himself, and he tried to snap himself out of his thoughts. She was his former student. She was nineteen years younger than him. She was healing from a miscarriage and broken off engagement to Ron Weasley.

Morality could go fuck itself! Goodness and righteousness could do the bloody same. Severus bit down sharply on his bottom lip, should he ask her to stay for a glass of wine?

“Would you like to have a drink with me?” He blurted, “as a thank you. It doesn’t have to mean anything besides a drink and a thank you. I haven’t been kind to you, and this is my apology of sorts.” 

The statements were half-truths, but half-truths were still true, weren’t they? At least, they were in his mind, and honestly, what was the harm? They were both lonely. And sharing a drink didn’t have to mean more, but if it ended up being more then so be it.

Hermione turned away from his books to stare at him. Her brown eyes inspected him, and Severus felt like a slide under a microscope under her intelligent though a bit judging gaze. One of his precious books slipped from her grasp and fell with a loud thud on the worn wooden floor. 

“Are you sure, Severus?” Hermione asked. 

“I might be too insufferable for such things. I might annoy you too much, talk too much or too loudly, but if that isn’t an issue I wouldn’t mind. I desperately need a good drink,” She teased him.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure, Granger,” he laughed. “So red or white, I do not have a preference.”

“White, red looks..”

“Too much like blood,” Severus finished for her. “I too once had nightmares, but now I am just numb.”

************************ 

Ten glasses of wine later,six for him and four for her, they were both pissed. Alcohol made Severus numb to the horrors of his past and everything seeped into one. Alcohol allowed him to bottle his feelings, forget his pain, his suffering, and the shame of the past. 

Hermione leaned over him, and she smelled like the rain and mint. Severus breathed her in, she might push every button he had, but Hermione was beautiful. Unfortunately, she did not realise it. She was whitty every day, and when she was drunk Hermione was downright hilarious. Hermione was also flirting with him for some reason. 

Severus shouldn’t do this.

He couldn’t do this. 

Merlin, damn it to bloody hell. 

Leaning forward, Severus knotted his hand into her stupid curls and kissed her. 

Hermione made a soft surprised noise in the back of her throat. And suddenly, she was kissing him back, and her tongue was in his mouth. Hermione ended up in his lap, and pushed him heavily down into his dining room chair. Severus wanted to touch every inch of her. He wanted her to remember this. He wanted her to know that he,  _ Severus,  _ was the one who made her feel like this, wanted and desired. He wanted it to be  _ his  _ name on her lips that Hermione cried out. Severus wanted to sharply stake his claim to a piece of her and she would never be able to forget it. 

__

Her fingers opened the buttons of his shirt. Hermione arched forward and her core brushed against his hardened cock. And the friction of their bodies stimulated Hermione in just the right way. 

“I am not as young as you,” he muttered. “If we are to do this, I would prefer to do this in bed.”

“As would I.”

As they ascended the stairs to his bedroom, Severus was reminded of all the unhappy memories these stairs had witnessed. He used to hide at the top while his parents screamed at each other at the bottom of them. As a child, he had run down the stairs when he knew Lily was visiting to ensure his father would say something cruel to her, and make her never want to speak to him again. Long ago, his mother had fallen down the stairs and tragically died. Although he still wondered if Tobias had pushed her, even if he had never proved it. Not that it mattered anymore, they both were dead and buried. The stairs were also where he decided to join the Death Eaters. The stairs were the first and only thing he repaired when his father had died and he had inherited the house. 

But those memories were the past, and this would be different. Maybe, their time together would not be a one-off and would become more significant . Severus hoped, but he did not pray. Praying was for the foolish, and Severus was not a fool. When they reached his bedroom, they both stripped their clothes off. Hermione folded her clothes and set them in a neat pile on a chair in the corner. Without hesitation, his hands were on her once again, but Hermione shoved him down on the bed. Straddling his hips, she rode and used him for her pleasure. 

His hands grasped her hips. Hermione kissed him, and he tried to meet her and she shoved him down. She came, her beautiful body arched and she dragged him along with her. Hermione fell next to him and tugged the blankets over them and within seconds fell asleep. The silence was so loud that it felt as if it could choke him. As if he was drowning under the pressure of it. Finally, the ticking of his clock filled Severus’ ears, and the sound of his heart beating, and breath pulled him into a peaceful sleep Severus only achieved with potions, drinking or drugging himself into oblivion. 

*********************************

Severus awoke to the sound of Hermione pulling her clothes on. 

”You don't have to go,” he croaked. He tried frantically not to ruin the moment, but this always seemed to happen. “You could stay for breakfast.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Hermione asked, her voice had the sharpness of a knife. 

“We don’t have to put this into words, Hermione,” Severus muttered. “ It can be whatever you want this to be as much or as little.”

“Okay I will stay, but I need to be truly honest with you even if we are just fucking,” she said softly. “Because with what I have to say may change your mind about whatever this is.”

“Doubtful.”

“You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”

********************************

Severus poured two cups of tea into mismatched, faded mugs. Everything in his home was old and neglected. Despite that he was the youngest Professors, Severus regularly felt like he was the oldest and most neglected. Time had stripped him, pulling the threads from the carpet that made up his life, but why couldn’t the threads be knitted back together and made into something anew? Often Severus’ felt he had lived the entirety of his life in his thirty-nine years. 

The wizarding world was no longer at war. Peace had come like a trumpet’s sound. They were told to forget the past, package their thoughts into little neat parcels, and tie them up with neat little bows. Bury the dead, heal their injured, forget all that you have suffered, go out, go on and go make a bloody life for yourself. But Severus Snape could not do this. All he had was nightmares and figments of himself that he felt were a staghound chasing a rabbit and just nearly catching it between his jaws.

But Severus was not a dog. He was a man. He had to stop chasing his burdens which had long since perished. 

Hermione stared at him across the table as he took his seat. Her warm brown eyes were hardened with pain, and Severus didn’t even know where to begin. 

“Hermione, I am not someone who would judge you,” he said to her and took Hermione’s small hands across the battered table and clutched them trying to convey it was okay. She would not find judgement in him, but comfort is what Hermione would find. 

“My sins are many and worthy of far more judgement than anything you have committed.”

“I did not have a misscarriage. I had an abortion,” Hermione’s was haunted and painful. Sharp with shame and dull with how surely lifeless that she felt.

“And no one knows. They will hate me if they know the truth,” Her tone would haunt him forever that Hermione  _ believed _ that she committed a sin. 

“The Weasleys will think I am a monster. I haven’t seen them in months. I can’t face them. I broke up with Ron by owl. The only one I have been able to face is you.t first, I didn’t care what you thought. I didn’t care if you hated me. I wanted you to. I deserve to be hated. Molly has not been cooking for you I have. If I would have told you that, well you might have guessed something was wrong. And I surely couldn’t have that.” Her voice was joking in tone, but also sarcastic and painful.

“Stop,” Severus shouted, “you are not a monster. For fuck sake’s.” 

His temper flared, “Those stupid bloody fake Victorians. Think Granger! You're a Muggleborn. You did what you felt was best. Honestly, you made the choice that you felt was best, and that’s all that matters. Nothing else matters not a bloody damn thing. You are an intelligent, whitty, beautiful, kind, generous, and bloody self-sacrificing Gryffindor!” 

He continued,“I am not running away. I don’t care what you have. I see you not because of what you are or even what you can do. But because you are you.”

“I did it because it was right, Severus. I know that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Their opinions _ , _ the ones that we both know that they have. Wizards are a judgemental bunch if there has ever been one and yet I don’t know why I bloody care what they think, but a small part me does.”

Severus reached for her, dragged her from her chair, pulled her into his lap. The rickety, wooden chair groaned beneath their combined weight, which nearly caused them both to fall to the tile floor. 

“Hermione, I have a knack for creating storms in my life.” 

He sighed, “I have one proper meal a week. I barely leave my house. I rarely sleep, which is why I don’t have nightmares. I am loathed by most and tolerated by few. I am the monster people tell their children about. I have committed far more sins and made far more mistakes in 39 years than you will make in your lifetime. But even if I am the creator of my own storm, I still deserve shelter.” 

Kissing her forehead, her cheek, and then her hair, “You are worthy of love, Hermione Jean Granger, whether you can see it or not.” 

“I need help, Severus, I think I need to speak with a professional.”   
  


“As do I.”

“Storms make trees take deeper roots.” Dolly Parton

“No storm can last forever.”

  
  
  
  


__


End file.
